


In Camera

by QDS



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Devil's Whore, Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Community: ladiesbigbang, Crossover, Gen, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-22
Updated: 2010-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QDS/pseuds/QDS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex Drake (from <i>Ashes to Ashes</i>) and Angelica Fanshawe (from <i>The Devil's Whore</i>) both have accidents that render them unconscious and they wake up in 1944 in Nazi Occupied France (the world of <i>Inglourious Basterds</i>) where they meet Shosanna Dreyfus, who is living in open hiding under the name Emmanuelle Mimieux. They are taken in by her to work at her cinema. Both of course have a desire to get home (Angelica back to English Civil War England, and Alex at the very least back to 1980s England), while Shosanna hopes that the two English women won't reveal their Englishness to the occupying army. A chance encounter with a Nazi from Shosanna's past leads the women to take action, be brave, and to trust each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Camera

**Author's Note:**

> Content notes: Attitudes to race not of the modern era, allusions to the Holocaust, mild violence, threat of rape.
> 
> Spoilers for: Season 1 _Ashes to Ashes_ , the entirety of _The Devil's Whore_ (note Angelica's surname in the text) and _Inglourious Basterds_. AU from the events of IB, and it disregards the nature of the world of A2A as explained in the final episode of A2A season 3, so kind of an AU from A2A as well.
> 
> Acknowledgments: sothcweden for the encouragement and the beta, particularly her perseverance despite me sending it to her so late!! trascendenza for the cheering and happy vibes, and shopfront for the fabulous complement, the [trailer vid, That Song](http://shopfront.dreamwidth.org/347911.html<br />).

### Part 1

Angelica remembered tumbling towards the ground, the horrible thump of her body hitting something both hard and soft. Elizabeth screamed her name, but to Angelica's ears, it sounded distant, as if she was standing at the far end of a long hall.

Her eyes flew open, and she was staring up alongside a building, and beyond that, saw the blue sky. It was made of an unusual material, the building, something she had never seen, but she felt the presence of a large structure.

She gripped the surface on either side of her, testing it, ascertaining what it was. It felt like a sack of some kind, thick material like they made sacks and sails from. There was something spongy beneath it. It was this that had broken her fall, and for that, she was grateful.

Slowly, she raised herself up, and looked around her. The horses were nowhere to be seen, and neither was Elizabeth, or her Susannah.

Angelica panicked, and leapt to her feet, stumbling a little. She looked around frantically, but the place around her was not familiar to her in the slightest. Oh Lord, what had happened to her?

When she looked back at the spot she had been lying on, she saw that another woman was sitting up, blinking, trying to wake herself up as well. Angelica cautiously stepped towards her, and offered her her hand. At the very least, the woman might have a better idea of what had happened.

"Thank you." In French. Oh that was a relief; she was still in Paris after all then.

But when the woman had brushed herself down, she looked down at her clothes, over at Angelica, around them once more. She began shaking her head, looking utterly furious, but from where Angelica stood, she at least seemed to have an idea of what was going on.

Suddenly, the woman cried out. "Not again! This shouldn't bloody well happen again!"  
Angelica's hand flew to her mouth, startled at the woman's coarse language, but then she realised that it was English.

There were other things too. Her hair was cut much shorter than usual, in an altogether unusual fashion. Normally Angelica would have assumed such a woman was ill, or had lice, or was being branded a criminal, but this woman looked very healthy, and apart from the slight mussing the came from their fall, her hair was clearly styled to be so. Was she an actress perhaps?

"Is...everything alright?" Angelica asked.

The woman looked at her, wide-eyed. "You're English?"

"I am. And I don't know about you but I'm..."

The woman looked about her and finished the sentence. "...very lost."

Angelica nodded. "Yes. What happened to lead you here?"

The woman rubbed her forehead. "I was with my colleagues, we were just going to get coffee and we passed this old man who looked at like he knew me, and then suddenly a moped flew out of the alleyway and I remember falling backwards and then waking up here."

Angelica frowned. "What is a moped?"

The woman gave her a strange look. "You know, like a scooter."

That confused Angelica even more, and it must have shown because the woman looked really worried. She didn't explain what this scooter thing was (some kind of contraption, perhaps?) but instead asked what happened to Angelica.

Angelica explained she'd experienced something similar.

"But I didn't see anyone on horseback when I fell," Alex said.

"And I certainly didn't see yourself or your...colleagues. I wasn't aware that there was a coffee house in this part of Paris, either."

"You were in Paris too? Yes, ok, that's good. That's something at least."

" _Were_ in Paris?"

The woman put her fingers to her temples, and took a deep breath.

"Ok. This is going to sound crazy--"

 _Crazier than it already is?_ Angelica thought.

"--but I have a horrible feeling that we've both experienced something that I've once experienced before. And...oh shit this is bad! I don't even know where we are!"

"Wherever we are, I'm sure we don't need to use such language."

It made her feel slightly priggish to say so, but there were other words than the one this strange woman had used. The woman did look suitably apologetic.

"I'm sorry. And I should also introduce myself. My name is Alex Drake."

Angelica looked at the proffered hand. It was a very masculine greeting, no bow, no curtsey. So Angelica curtsied herself, which seemed to puzzle Miss Drake very much.

"Mrs. Angelica Sexby."

"Angelica. Ok. And…may I ask, where are you from?"

"England, like yourself."

"And you were visiting Paris?"

"Yes. I was with my daughter and a friend. I was hoping to get her tutored in French for a native speaker."

Miss Drake smiled. "That's lovely. And what year do you think it is?"

Angelica was a little affronted at that question. What year did she _think_ it was? It was quite obviously 1665.

She said to Miss Drake, "It's the fifth year of the reign of Charles II of England, Scotland and Ireland."

Miss Drake seemed to want another kind of answer.

"Charles II!"

Angelica only looked as steady as possible at that sudden outburst. Miss Drake walked away for a moment, began pacing back and forth, mind obviously ticking over things.

"Restoration era, 1600s, 17th century…I think?" She turned back to Angelica. "Cromwell? What about Cromwell?"

Angelica folded her arms, now starting to feel quite exasperated, and feeling the usual prick of grief that name always brought up for her.

"You honestly don't know?"

After a pause Miss Drake said, "Let's just say I've been out of the country for a long time."

"He died seven years ago. And none too soon."

Miss Drake nodded, and went back to pacing, to thinking, while Angelica tried to tell herself to be more patient. She heard Miss Drake mutter words such as 'Roundhead' and 'Cavalier' (though not Royalist) and even something about Ireland.

Suddenly Miss Drake whipped around to her, mouth slightly agape. "You lived through the Civil War."

Angelica exhaled with a huff. "Obviously!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…it must have bad memories for you."

Well, yes, Angelica thought irritably, that wasn't what was upsetting her right now. She decided to try and clear up the matter.

"And what of yourself, then? You seem to think you have come from a place different to me."

"Oh, believe me, I have. But I know it is not this place."

It was such an enigmatic response, almost a riddle. Angelica was beginning to deduce that this Alex was perhaps mad; it would account for the distinctly male dress, and the name…perhaps she was one of those people who frequented the molly houses?

But perhaps it was best to play along with the madness first. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, look at our clothes, for a start."

For the first time, Angelica had a proper look at what she was wearing. And then she felt even more uncomfortable, for she realised that her under clothes were very flimsy, body-hugging. Unlike Alex, she was at least wearing a skirt, but it showed off her legs! Oh gosh! And they were completely bare.

"Oh my...oh my! Please, we must find something to hide my legs. This is terribly embarrassing!"

"Flash of ankle turns men's heads, does it?"

"It is not amusing! And besides, I'm not the one dressed like man!"

Alex looked down at herself…and she shrugged! She had the gall to act as if it was nothing striking at all.

What was this? Had they been transported to some really unusual celebration of 'Twelfth Night?' The word turned topsy tury? A trick instigated by someone, but who would instigate such a trick? Not Elizabeth, surely not! This was not the sort of thing she would do.

Behind them, a door swung open, causing both of them to jump a little. It revealed a small slender blonde woman, who looked angry but also confused.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

It was French.

"I'm sorry," Angelica said, turning back to French herself. "We are both very lost and confused as to where we are. Perhaps you may be able to help us? I am staying in the house of Lord Fontaine, perhaps you know where it is?"

The woman didn't seem to know how Lord Fontaine was, for she looked at Angelica as if she was talking nonsense.

Then to Angelica's great surprise, a tall, slender African appeared behind the woman's shoulder. "Ah, yes, the new assistants. This must be both of them."

Angelica knew it was rude to stare, but she had only ever seen two Africans before in her life, and they certainly didn't speak French as well as this man did. He saw her expression, and she felt stupid, but he beamed at her and looked as if he were going to introduce himself when the blonde woman held up her hand to stop him.

Miss Drake raised an eyebrow. "Assistants?"

The man nodded. "Of course. We received the letter from Brittany earlier this week."

The woman looked at him askance. "Yes, but the letter failed to mention one vital fact."

"And what is that?"

She leaned up to him and whispered something, and his expression of pleasure turned to one of worry.

"Oh."

Angelica, sensing that they might be safest to be these assistants, whoever they were, began searching her person for something that may identify them. She found in her pocket an open letter, and she hastily read it. Indeed, they were being sent from the Brittany coast to work here at the...cinema? What was a cinema? Whatever it was, she quickly passed the letter to the woman, who took it with a look of regal disdain. But she read it, and then turned

"This is the letter, Marcel."

The man, now Marcel, nodded slowly, still suspicious. "They could be spies."

"Perhaps..."

The woman came closer to them, beckoning for them to step closer to her as well. She spoke in a quiet, serious voice.

"You are English?"

"Yes," Miss Drake said. "Is that a problem?"

The woman's eyes widen, and she looked about ready to laugh, but stopped as clearly the situation wasn't quite as humourous as it could have been.

"You'd better come inside, quickly. And do not speak English! I can only speak a little, and you might be caught if someone hears you."

Angelica and Miss Drake glanced at each other. "Caught?" they said, simultaneously.

The woman threw her hands in the air. "Are you both stupid? Been locked away for years? There is a war on!"

Angelica frowned. "But England and France have no quarrel at present."

The woman looked ready to lose her temper, when all of a sudden Miss Drake ran down the alleyway at great speed, and Angelica, knowing she was a little crazy but feeling safer with her country woman, followed. Their shoes thudded on the strange material beneath their feet. But Miss Drake to an abrupt halt at the end of it. Angelica skidded to a stop behind her, and she looked up at the scene before them.

Her hand clasped over her mouth as she saw something out of a nightmare. There were carriages made of metal with large wheels, moving faster than a carriage ever could. There was a two wheel machine on which a man road like a horse, but it sped down the road so quickly that it made Angelica's eyes water. Women and men passed these strange machines without so much as a look of shock. And their clothes! The men wore shirts and jackets that almost seemed to hug their bodies, and the women wore dresses with pictures of bright flowers and other plain colours, but they were so short! Prettier than their own clothes, and yet they wore then without shame.

What sort of world was this that she had come to?

Miss Drake looked at her, her eyes filled with fear. Angelica was about to speak, to say anything, even though she didn't know what, when a loud cough behind her made her jump. She turned to see the blonde woman standing with her arms folded and wearing a perturbed expression on her face.

Miss Drake came up very close to the woman, and said in a low voice, in French, "Germany is occupying France, isn't it?"

The women rolled her eyes. "Only now you understand?"

"I...I'm sorry. We've...both had a very bad bump to our head. I believe it has made us forget things."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Made you forget you are French as well and you speak English like a native?"

"Perhaps we can have this conversation inside as you suggested," Miss Drake said.

The woman said nothing, but she indicated with her head to follow her. Angelica kept close to Miss Drake

The African, Marcel, was waiting for them, and he was carrying two cases the size of a side table into the building.

"I've found their suitcases. I'll take them to the room."

Angelica decided it was not the time to point out that neither of those cases belonged to her

When the door closed behind them, the woman finally introduced herself.

"My name is Emmanuelle, and the man is my colleague Marcel. I'm afraid I had forgotten you were coming today, but luckily we have the spare room for you. You will both have to share, and the beds are unfortunately cots, but it is the best we can offer you."

Emmanuelle led them through the large building. Angelica asked if it was the house of a lord, so rich and fine in its decoration, but Miss Drake informed her it was something like a theatre. They walked down more corridors, and Marcel and Emmanuelle eventually opened up a door behind which was a room.

Angelica regarded the narrow room. They at least had a dresser and mirror each, and very plain, austere, something she would have associated with a working family's cottage, and yet they looked well made.

Marcel put their cases down, and let them enter the room themselves.

Emmanuelle regarded them stiffly. "Make yourselves at home. We'll come back for you in a little while so we can further discuss this...situation."

And she closed the door behind them.

Miss Drake regarded Angelica with something like pity. "Will you be ok with this arrangement, Mrs. Sexby?"

"Please. Call me Angelica." And she smiled when she thought of the nights on the street she had slept, those days in the forest with Sexby (she had never found herself able to call him his Christian name). This was a luxury and a kindness. "I have had cobblestones for my mattress before. I can assure you, Miss Drake, this is quite reassuring."

"Alex, do call me Alex."

"I will."

*

They might have had the letter, and they might have agreed with it, but Shosanna had her doubts. In fact, that was pretty much an understatement. She quite simply didn't believe that 'Alexandra' and 'Angelique' were from Brittany.

"Are you sure they weren't speaking in dialect?" Marcel asked.

Shosanna gave him one of her withering 'are you bloody stupid?' looks. "I think I can tell the difference between English and a Brittany accent. And besides, they confirmed it themselves."

He shrugged. "Ok, fine. They're English. What exactly should we do about it? Inform the local Gestapo?"

"Tsk! Of course not."

"Then…"

Shosanna frowned, more than a bit cranky that she'd been put in this position. The ideal scenario was that they'd leave and go elsewhere. Unfortunately, that was not on the cards. It would be an even riskier proposition smuggling them back to England (she'd tried before herself to leave mainland Europe and that had almost ended with her getting caught.)   
No, they'd have to stay here.

"You think they could be spying for England?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. But they are hiding very badly if they are. Look, they can stay, but keep that at a distance. The more we know, the worse danger we put ourselves in."

Marcel nodded, ever supportive. "Alright, Shosanna."

She shot him a warning look. He held up his hands. "I know, I know. You're Emmanuelle."

Then he reached forward and took her hand, and said softly, "But you're always Shosanna to me."

She had to stop the tightness in her throat, so she smiled and rolled her cheek against his hand, kissing his fingers.

"I love you too."

*

Perhaps an hour later, Emmanuelle called for both of them to come to her office. They both followed, Angelica keeping closer to Alex. Alex found herself worrying a little about the other woman, who, despite being a few years older than her, was clearly even more unaware of the world they'd both, somehow, fallen into.

English Civil War, Cromwell. It was a period in history Alex was only vaguely aware of; she'd watched David Starkey's programmes on Henry VIII and his wives, but she could only name-check the Roundheads, Cavaliers, Cromwell, and Charles I.

The big question on her mind was how her subconscious had managed to create this...what was this? A secondary world to the one of the 1980s she was already occupying? Indeed, was Angelica herself actually from 1665, and also in a coma? Worse still, even if this was a place in her subconscious, it still felt very real. And the fact of World War II did not give Alex much comfort.

She gritted her teeth. She'd told Gene over and over that taking the team to France in pursuit of this Heinrich Leopold had been a bad idea. Especially with the whiff of information they had about him seemed to indicate that he was guilty of more than simply drug dealing. What that was, however, had eluded them for weeks. The investigation in Paris had been about to take off...and now this. By now Alex imagined she was lying in a Parisian hospital, Gene, Chris, Shaz, even Ray all in a bit of a flap.

"Marcel and I have discussed this. It is clear to me that the letters I had from Brittany were not entirely honest. And no wonder, as mail is not always confidential. But despite this, as I see it, we have little choice but to accept you both here at the cinema. Assuming you are not spies."

Alex shook her head frantically. "We are not spies, I assure you."

"Mmm. And I'd be inclined to believe you; you were not exactly working to appear French," Emmanuelle deadpanned. "And while it is dangerous to us for you to remain, we'd risk far more in attempting to get you both back to England. And so, you will stay here and work as the letter requests."

"What sort of work?" Alex asked.

"Cleaning, helping with ticket and snack sales, the general running of the cinema. If that is not too much to ask."

Alex and Angelica both nodded emphatically.

"I think I speak for both of us when I tell you how grateful we are."

Angelica echoed her sentiments, and Emmanuelle looked them both over again.

"Good. You'll start tomorrow. Breakfast will be at 9 o'clock in the kitchen, and then we'll give you a proper tour of the cinema."

Angelica thanked her again, and asked if either of them could explain what a cinema was she'd be very grateful. Alex chose that moment to take Angelica back to the room, leaving Emmanuelle with a very befuddled expression.

### Part 2

There were many indignities Angelica had suffered in life, as well as pain. And while this new world was strange, she did not find her existence in it unbearable. Yes, there was much cleaning to do, and it took her a while to get used to the strange smells of the 'chemicals' that they used to clean them, but she had done farm labouring in her time, and lived in a dank gaol cell with thin blankets. Life here, at least, was somehow quietly dignified.

Well, except for being asked to sell the sweets (she hadn't ever seen such foods, tasty as they were), the popcorn (she had heard of America, and was told it was now a teeming nation itself and was part of the war against Germany), and the cigarettes (which she had to admitted were a rather intelligent way of smoking tobacco.) Those outfits they were supposed to wear! She couldn't believe how much skin could be shown on a woman! That she refused to do. Alex...well, Alex didn't seem to mind a lot of things, and took to the job with enthusiasm.

How different were women from Alex's time, she wondered.

The first night they had arrived Alex explained to her that she was in fact from the future, decades ahead of this time – the year 2008! 1944 sounded horribly distant enough, but that Alex had lived through the second millennium was confounding. Even more bizarrely, Alex told her that she had, it would seem, travelled back before – into the year 1981, before coming to this place further in the 'subconscious'.

"So, have I travelled into this 'subconscious' too?"

Alex had just looked exasperated, not with Angelica, but the situation. "I don't know anymore. I really don't. I used to treat the people around me – that is, my current colleagues in the 1980s – as if I'd simply conjured them out of my own mind. And yet you're here too, and I can't think how my mind could have created you, as I know only the barest details of your time."

She could have, of course, been an inveterate liar, a great inventor of fantastical tales, but Alex's understanding of this time, as well as her grasp of what had happened in Angelica's life and what was still to come, convinced Angelica otherwise. Besides, Angelica was especially grateful for Alex's patience in explaining this new world to her. It was very exciting but often frightening. It moved so fast; the cars, the bicycles, the jeeps. The fast sounds and rapid movements.

However, Angelica was utterly enchanted by the cinema. Though even still, she was a bit nervous around the projectors, jumping startled at the sounds they made. Both Emmanuelle and Marcel had, as a result, forbidden her from that room, only allow her in if she was to clean it and then with someone accompany her.

But watching these 'films'...it was as if something had captured the world in and cast it on the screen. Sure, Emmanuelle and Alex had explained how the process worked, and for them it seemed mundane, however entertaining they found it. But Angelica was sure she would never think of it as such. She wept at the end of the first film she saw, felt a great beauty as well as a great loss at what had just happened.

"And...we can see it again?"

"Oh yes," Alex had said. "Once something is filmed it can be preserved forever. Like a painting, except that it moves."

Angelica had looked at the reels of film, and couldn't quite fathom how it worked. One day, though, Emmanuelle opened up a reel and showed her.

"It is a series of moving pictures," she'd said, holding up the film before her. "See, these all look the same image, but there are subtle differences between each of them, and when shown sequentially at speed, the eye is convinced that it is a moving picture."

"What kind of contraption can take such pictures?"

Alex had explained to Emmanuelle that Angelica had grown up very sheltered and had never even seen a camera or a photograph. Marcel decided that would change, and he insisted on taking a picture with all three of the women in it. For some reason, Emmanuelle had not liked that idea, but he'd said to her they could develop the film there.

"Develop?" Angelica asked.

They didn't explain that, but a few days after they took the photograph, Angelica was startled to see it.

"It's...it's like a mirror, only still, like a painting..." Her hand trembled, and she had to put it down. Emmanuelle had raised her eyebrow to that, and Marcel and gently taken the picture away.

"Was that too much for you?" Alex asked later that night as they prepared for bed.

Angelica put her hair brush down, thinking on it. "A little. It was...it's all so exciting. So new...I feel scared much of the time, but...I'm brave."

"Oh brave New World," Alex said, looking contemplative.

"Yes. Yes quite."

Days later the photograph appeared in a frame on their shared dresser in the bedroom, without word or comment from anyone, but on seeing it then, Angelica smiled. She felt incredibly lucky to have met kind and generous people here, for it kept her mind at least calm when she worried about and missed Elizabeth and Susannah.

*

At first, Alex loved the 'retro-ness' of it; it was as if she had stepped onto a film set, and could wear wonderful costumes and play with various pieces of technology that were no longer in use. However, she could have done without the regular visits from the stationed German soldiers, striding in to the cinema as if they owned the world. (Alex considered later that really, at this moment, and in this time and place, they basically did.)

As a result, the novelty of the new era quickly wore off, and Alex found herself with increasing feelings of dread. History wasn't her best subject in school, but she knew enough to know that the war was coming to an end quite soon. That itself was alright, but she was sure Paris had been bombed, and if she had woken up in the same spot that she had fallen, that concerned her.

The cinema wasn't there anymore, or a building of a similar shape. The fear was that...

Alex shuddered. She supposed they might be evacuated, but that didn't give her much comfort.

There were other fears too. Having already made one journey backwards (or perhaps nowhere and had instead gone deeper into her subconscious, if that's where she was in the first place) adjusting to life in the 1940s was not as bad as she thought it might be. And it wasn't as if they ventured much further than the cinema most days. Angelica seemed far more worried about the dangers of the outside world, such as bicycles, let alone motorbikes and jeeps, but Alex was all too aware of what might happen to them if one of the smiling German soldiers found out who they were.

Well, who were they exactly, in this world? They had apparently taken on a role there. Someone somewhere was aware of their existence, much like how CID had been aware of Sam in 1973 and of her in 1981. But apart from the letter in Angelica's pocket, nothing.

Having witnessed the death of her parents all over again, she had realised that she'd been sent there, to that time, not to change it, but to learn and accept the truth and reality of what had happened to them. But what about this place and time? What did that hold for either Angelica or Alex? Surely nothing could be tying Angelica here, she wasn't merely decades in the future, but centuries. Alex...well, Alex conceivably had someone in her past who wounded up in Nazi-occupied Paris...but what?

And why this place? The cinema itself was unusual, mostly because of Emmanuelle. She ran it well, yes, but there was something not quite right. Like she wasn't telling them everything. Something Marcel knew but was protecting her too.

So for the most part, Alex kept herself distracted by observing the others around her.

Angelica must have been learning and absorbing so much, and she seemed so excited and child-like by, well, everything. Which was interesting, because in her quieter moments, Angelica was incredibly self-assured and almost regal. It was more an eagerness to learn, and she was a quick learner, with very few complaints when Marcel and Emmanuelle asked her to do something. She had balked at selling the cigarettes in those outfits, though Alex was rather enjoying, and playing up the French accent actually seemed to work as they did it. Oddly enough, Emmanuelle seemed to approve of that, smirking behind her cigarette when she came in to see if everything was going fine in the auditorium.

There was also an aura of mystery about Angelica. Alex had noticed the scar around her neck earlier on, but Angelica usually kept it hidden, and Alex wasn't quite sure how to ask about it, if she should. Though Alex knew little about the Civil War, she understood that it was perhaps one of the worst times to have lived through, and particularly for Angelica, who she had learned even knew King Charles I, and whose last husband had tried to kill Cromwell, and failed.

"He sounds like a brave man," Alex had said to her during the first week they were there, feeling more sympathy and admiration.

Angelica had tried to smile at his memory, though clearly she still felt some pain because of it. "He was. A very brave and very loyal man. And he's the father of my daughter, Susannah."

"How old is she?"

"She's seven."

"I have a daughter as well. Molly. She is a little bit older, nine. Though her father is still alive, but…well, that didn't work out."

Angelica blinked. "You are divorced?"

"You sound surprised. Well, I suppose it wasn't quite so common." Almost to herself, Alex said, "Almost too common."

"You must miss her."

Alex had taken Angelica's hand at that. "Don't we both?"

With Emmanuelle and Marcel, Alex quickly discovered they had a certain liberality to them, quite apart from them having a relationship, being a black man and a white woman, would have been almost transgressive for this time. There was a room that wasn't quite a sitting room and not quite a lounge, but looking Emmanuelle one evening, Alex opened the door to it to find Emmanulle and Marcel looking very startled. It was probably due to the fact that Emmanuelle was sitting behind a camera and filming Marcel, and he was completely stripped of all clothing. Alex had only been somewhat surprised, and she left them with a tantalising smirk. (She would not be repeating that story to Angelica, however.)

The two of them also couldn't have been more different. On learning her surname, Marcel had grinned cheekily, and taken to calling her Miss Duck, or Mademoiselle Canard, depending on his mood (was everyone in the past intent on nicknaming her, Alex wondered, thinking of Gene's 'Bollyknickers' and oddly missing it.) Emmanuelle only rolled her eyes at the joke, a gesture it seemed she did a lot, as if she were suffering the fools around her.

It was watching a new film that Emmanuelle really lit up. Not so much that she smiled with delight the way Angelica did, but that the hidden fire in her came to life. It was in her eyes, a burning intensity and passion that Alex only could half imagine.

*

"You know, I'm getting rather attached to our two strays," Marcel said.

Shosanna thought about it. The extra help around the cinema was a very good thing, and they certainly were charming the attendees very much. Some liked the sweet but very poised Angelica (Angelique, as they called her) and a lot of the men found Alex (who they called Alexandra in public, which was a lot better than Marcel's silly nickname) incredibly appealing.

Alex did rub Shosanna up the wrong way much of the time; the woman was a bit of a frustrating know-all, and Shosanna couldn't stand being told how to do her job or how better to run things by someone who had almost literally dropped down from the sky (for Alex's head was certainly in the clouds much of the time.) Angelica she handled a lot better; she was a keen but patient learner, though it continued to puzzle Shosanna how much she was befuddled by the most mundane tasks.

It still filled her with occasional moments of dread that they would be found out. Alex's French wasn't the best, but she compensated by being as flamboyant as possible. But flamboyancy all too often led to detection. And the fewer Nazis snooping around the cinema, the better.

She contemplated again that Alex, at the very least, had some comprehension of just how much danger they were in. Angelica, who it seemed had had her fair share of trouble, was aware of it, but she hadn't quite ever grasped the full extent of their situation (she talked German with the soldiers who came, for goodness sake, what was she thinking!)

As Shosanna watched the two women sweep up the lobby, chatting quietly in English, with the occasional French thrown in, words that sounded like Angelica was helping Alex learn more, she realised 'fond' wasn't the word she would have used. She'd grown used to having them around, and while it irked and worried her more than she needed in her life, having more people in her life than her one, ever constant Marcel was something she did value highly.

*

Some evenings, in the room that Alex said was the living room in English in her time, Emmanuelle and Marcel would put on a gramophone, and there would be music. The first few times it happen, Angelica had sat by it, transfixed, asking questions about how it worked that the others grew tired of answering.

"It plays music," Emmanuelle had said, swirling a glass of hard bought whiskey in her hand.   
"That is all that really matters."

On this particular evening, Marcel and Emmanuelle were dancing to the music (nothing Angelica had ever seen, and it was all quite scandalous, really) while Alex sat with a notebook, frantically writing. She had told Emmanuelle and Marcel that it was her diary, and she didn't want to lose the habit while she was in Paris. Angelica knew otherwise, that it was her notes and observation about the world around them, possible clues and connections as to why they were there, and more importantly, how they could get home. It seemed like valuable work, but Alex hadn't seemed to have turned up anything that might help them.

"It's like we arrived here and then it all went quiet, except for the radio, but that only happened once. Back in the time that I travelled to, I always heard things, through the television, reflections. But here, there is only silence. Nothing that calls to us."

Angelica simply sat, watching Emmanuelle and Marcel, both startled and enticed by their free-spirited movements, loving the beat and the tune of the music, equally as free and open. She tapped her foot in time, and found her body swaying in time to the music as well. Emmanuelle caught her eye, and she smiled at her. She looked very happy. Very unlike the mask that she wore when she was working or dealing with the public. There was something about Marcel in particular that made her happy. Angelica was glad she had grown used to the sight of him; she knew it was rude to stare, but it had been difficult for the first two weeks not to.

The music stopped on the gramophone, and the slightly sweaty couple sat down, grinning stupidly.

"I'll put on the radio," Marcel said, and went to the machine on the other side of the room.

That pleased Angelica. Marcel had first tried to tell her that the voices came from tiny little people who lived inside the large machine, but she had given him a 'how gullible do you think I am?' look before he'd tried to explain something about airwaves...at any rate, she knew that someone elsewhere in the city, perhaps even in the country, was speaking at the same time into the machine.

Emmanuelle shrugged. "Why not? It's all bullshit, anyway."

The swear word made Angelica wince.

"Propaganda mostly." Alex spoke without looking up from her note book.

"Of course, Miss Duck," Marcel said, sitting back down and putting his hand on Emmanuelle's knee. "But we may hear something at least of what is happening in your country."

Alex murmured a few words, and Angelica heard something that sounded like 'the Blitz.'

There was the strange whirring and crackling noises that always happened when the radio was put on, and finally some voices. French, yes, but as Alex said, nothing at all critical, and full of praise for the Nazi Party.

And then, something utterly extraordinary happened.

"Angelica? Angelica? Can you hear us?"

Angelica almost tripped over her feet to get to the gramophone table. That was Elizabeth's voice, coming through as clearly as the music had been before.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth, can you hear me?"

Another voice joined Elizabeth's, softer, younger. "Mummy? Can you wake up?"

And at that, Angelica screamed, and fell to her knees below the gramophone. "Susannah!"

Behind her, Emmanuelle was asking if she was all right, but all Angelica could do was try, and try, and keep failing to speak to either Elizabeth or her daughter.

*

Alex dropped her book and rushed towards Angelica, who for some reason had started calling out her daughter's name, but then behind her the radio whirred as if changing stations, and she heard a very familiar voice.

"Marm! Can you hear me?"

"Shaz!"

Alex lunged for the radio, and clutched it like a life line.

"Marm, we've taken you to hospital. The bump on your head--"

"Come on, Bolly, a little tumble like that shouldn't leave you like this."

Even through her panic and desperation to reach out to the team, Alex felt herself smirk at Gene's voice.

"Steady on, Guv, that's a pretty nasty cut."

Pause. "Are you a doctor, Raymondo?"

"Well, with all due respect, neither are--"

A sudden blast of French, a woman's voice telling them to all get out if they were going to carry on like this.

"Please, I'm here, I'm here!" Alex shouted into it over and over again, but the static was soon replaced by the banal pro-German French radio. Alex fell away from it, cursing and crying. Behind her, she heard Emmanuelle and Marcel asking variously if they were okay or demanding to know what was going on, but Angelica couldn't respond, and Alex just shook her head, knowing it would be useless to try.

In the end, both clearly exasperated, Emmanuelle took Angelica's arm, helped her off the floor, and led her to their room, while Marcel did the same for Alex. They brought them glasses of water, and left them sitting on their own beds. But once the door closed Angelica threw herself next to Alex.

"I heard Elizabeth and Susannah!"

Alex took a deep breath, and nodded. Finally somethings were making sense, even if they weren't much help to them. "This is what happens. You hear people speaking to you from the place you've come from, through various means. I heard and saw mine though – film."

Considering even Marcel and Emmanuelle didn't know what TV was, Alex thought it best not to explain that.

"So you think I too an unconscious, in a 'coma'?" Angelica's voice was very quiet.

"After this...yes. I think so."

"Then...I could go home? Get back to Paris, at least?"

"I certainly hope so," Alex said.

"But how?"

Alex laughed bitterly. The million dollar question. She shook her head. "I really wish I knew."

After that, they clung to each other, both crying quietly as the night wore on.

*

Shosanna and Marcel were a bit shaken by the outbursts earlier that night. That both women should simultaneously be trying to speak into the machines was extraordinary.

Shosanna shook her head. "They are very strange. Something hurts them, but I cannot understand what it is. And they don't help by not explaining anything either."

"They are not from here. I imagine they have been through a lot."

At that, Shosanna raised her eyebrow. Marcel immediately knew what she meant, and pulled her into a hug.

"I know, my love, I know."

### Part 3

It was an obligation of the cinema to show German films. The Vichy Government didn't insist on it exactly, but it was strongly recommended.

"And they act so damn grateful that you care so much about Germany. As if we have a choice!" Emmanuelle hissed after one visit from a German representative delivering the reels of the new film. She threw her pen hard on her desk, and shook her head.

Alex was the only one in her office with her at the time. What Emmanuelle must be going through, all these years of a foreign nation in her country, having to try get about with daily life and hope against hope not to attract too much attention. But she was smart, resourceful, and Alex ventured a question that she would never have asked in the earshot of anyone else.

"You haven't considered joining the resistance, have you?"

Emmanuelle looked at Alex, utterly startled for a moment, and then she burst into laughter. It was a good hearty laugh, but Alex could see a vein of anger still there as she did so.

"I've offended you."

Emmanuelle shook her head, still chuckling. "No, no. It's a good question. Most of us hate the Germans, but it's a great risk to be part of the resistance."

"Yes, but you...I can't help feeling that there is something else at work for you. Something deeper than what others feel. I've seen them in the cinema, watching the German officers. They hate them, or are scared of them, but you...it's different."

Emmanuelle's expression turned hard, and she didn't look at Alex when she spoke.

"Do you think that with my anger I should do something with it?"

"I only wonder if you might feel better--"

"Well it won't help." Emmanuelle's eyes flicked up, the blue fiercely blazing in Alex's direction. "I promise you, there are few things in this world I wouldn't give to see an early end to this war, but do not ever presume to know what is best for me."

All Alex could do was nod, and quietly leave the room. She could tell Emmanuelle was at a stage where she shouldn't push it. At another time she might have considered trying more, but they weren't simply dealing with parental anger or frustration with work, or even an officer who shot someone in the line of duty.

Alex passed through the lobby and up the flight of stairs, and she saw that there were two German officers there, with a couple of women on either side of them. They both wore handguns, and from the confidence they exuded, Alex didn't doubt for a second they wouldn't hesitate to use them. On their faces was the confidence of the conqueror. And that, Alex knew, was the difference between the world she had left and the one they were now inhabiting. This was war. Suggesting that Emmanuelle should take up arms was not right. Emmanuelle had to survive, and frankly, she had to survive for all of them.

*

When Shosanna opened the letter that Bridget von Hammersmark was to visit the cinema, she had felt a strange flush. The luminous actress had an appeal that reached both men and women, and Shosanna had seen her films as a young teenager, before the invasion. That she might be standing near her, in the cinema itself, now gave her mixed feelings; excitement, but also nerves. She was beloved by the government, and she would surely be accompanied by a high ranking official.

The day of the event itself, Shosanna told Alex and Angelica that the cinema had to be pristine. The two women flew into the challenge with great spirit. It became a bit of a game; who could clean the fastest and the best in the quickest amount of time, and before they knew it, the cinema was looking beautiful inside and out.

Bridget von Hammersmark had said she wanted only a little special treatment. The cinema was to remain open to all patrons, and there was to be no advertising the fact that she was coming. Shosanna, however, put a quiet word out amongst the afficonados that she knew, and as a result, there was a large crowd gather in the lobby. Large, but also discrete and respectful.

Still, Shosanna was being careful, so very careful. While the cinema had to look special, she did not want to convey the impression she was willing to kiss German arse. That would have raised suspicions with the Resistance as well as others amongst the Parisian community. Stoically doing what she had to do, that's how it had to appear.

That said, there was a tingling sense of shame that she desired to impress Miss von Hammersmark. This was a German actress, after all, beloved by the soldiers and the government. Her enemy, the ones who had taken her family. To this day she never knew what led to them being discovered, but she knew that the Nazi who found them had earned his reputation when he had given the orders to shoot the farmhouse floor.

Shosanna remembered the days in the forest after. The dirt and the mud had been easy to wash away, but the blood of her brother had remained and stained brown. She had almost given up, almost found herself wishing she would simply slip away into oblivion to stop the pain from overwhelming her.

It had for several days. She had wailed, tears flowed freely in her hide away in the forest, places that had only been her childhood escapes, places that had meant to be pretend places of escape before she and her brother could return home for supper in the evenings. The lush green undergrowth and sparkling sunlight had enveloped her in warmth in those days, the forest becoming like a blanket.

The days after, however, she had seen the jagged edges of the branches, the sharp lines of leaves and the unkempt, unruly places where broken trees had just fallen to disrupt her path, trip her up. It became a refuge of terror.

But the tears had dried up. Her body hadn't been able to sustain her sorrow, her emptiness, and her fear. On the fifth day of living there she woke up, and though she felt weak, she had stood, and followed the stream to the nearest farm house. The farmer's wife did recognise her, and Shosanna had almost collapsed, thinking the game was over. That she had survived only to be killed.

She was lucky. The farmer's wife quickly arranged for her to go to Paris. A new dress and a new haircut, a small bag with some clothes and money, and the instructions to disappear into the crowds.

"You don't look...you may be alright. You have no papers to prove otherwise, they will not suspect you."

Shosanna had been told from a young age that she was pretty. She had accepted the compliments with good grace, believing them even. But now she wondered how much of that had been backhanded, half meant.

"You're very attractive," was spoken, but now she could hear the unsaid final part:

 _"For a Jew."_

Regardless, it was easier to put on workman-like clothes, and find a job that meant her face was not seen. The cinema, it seemed, was the obvious choice. In that, she had been lucky. She had refused to tell Madame Mimeux her name, but it wasn't long before her secret was guessed. The elderly lady had simply taken her hand and said to think of her as long-lost aunty.

And Marcel. How patient he had been! Two years he waited for Shosanna to come around. And he was still patient with her. He trusted her, in ways she never thought possible from a man. And he had stayed when Madame Mimeux had passed away. Stayed with the cinema.

Still, despite all this, Shosanna found herself staring at the poster of Bridget von Hammersmark, and remembering how it had been the first time she saw her on the screen. What would facing her in reality be like? Would she hate her with a terrible passion? Weep?

In a few hours she would know. Shosanna flexed her fingers, and went upstairs to change. An attractive but simple dress, she'd decided. Nothing to make her stand out. Make-up would be understated, but not demure.

She could do this. It was just another night at the cinema. She had survived much worse.

*

Bridget had varied and tumultuous feelings towards her fans that had become all the more sharp since the German army had risen up and invaded its neighbours. They were always so adoring, lovely to her, and that she appreciated, understanding there was a very human need to love something beyond yourself, to desire and worship. This she did not mind; only when it crossed the line into utter presumption or worse, obsession, did she have problems with her fans. These were the ones to invade her private life, to want to make her part of theirs as if they were entitled to do so.

But somehow, once the war was underway, she began to look at even her most ardent fans as sentimental, mawkish, and somewhat childish. They loved her, yes, but how could so many of them fail to see what evil German was wreaking on the world? The damage it was causing her beloved Europe? They were Germans for Germany, as if their neighbours meant nothing and were there to be taken and belittled. And how could they not notice their colleagues, neighbours, and friends disappearing? Or they did, and they didn't care. There was a sense that those Jews and Gypsies deserved whatever was going to happen to them, that the men who loved men were indeed a menace to the children, and that those born with mental instabilities and limbs that would never function properly did not deserve to be cared for.

Bridget felt her chest tighten with anger in the car.

"Fraulein von Hammersmark?"

Bridget briefly closed her eyes and adjusted her expression to something more pleasant, delighted to be there, no anger or rage whatsoever. She flashed her eyes at the man escorting her, and his expression was concerned.

"Are you troubled?"

"I am fine. Thank you very much."

She only hoped he had believed it. This particular officer was a clever man with a reputation. She had of course accepted him as her replacement escort without question, but she was always acting around him.

Then again, she was always acting off camera these days.

*

Angelica had put on a nice dress in dark blue and applied lipstick to her mouth. It had been many years since she had worn it, and the cylinder that it was kept in and the method of putting it on was very efficient. She was to assist Emmanuelle this evening, be at her side if anything needed fetching or seeing to, while Alex was on duty charming everyone in that awfully short dress while selling food and cigarettes.

She found Emmanuelle on the balcony, who was looking down onto the crowd gathering below. Alex was weaving through the people, catching men's eyes, but she waved up at Angelica.

"Has Miss von Hammersmark arrived yet?"

The front door to the cinema opened at that moment, and through it, a woman in a sparkling dress, with a man in Nazi uniform, clearly high ranking, at her left arm.

"There she is," Emmanuelle said, indicating to the woman who was now surrounded by a bevy of admirers, including one or two photographers. Angelica blinked as their cameras flashed white.

"Let's go." Emmanuelle began walking down the stairs, and Angelica followed.

They were about half way down when Emmanuelle suddenly stopped still. Angelica turned to her, and immediately felt worried. Emmanuelle's usually impassive stony face washed pale, and Angelica was sure she was going to faint. She put her hand to Emmanuelle's shoulder.

"Are you ill?"

Emmanuelle didn't respond for a long time, but eventually she nodded.

"Something has quite come over me. Excuse me, but..."

Emmanuelle was considering her options.

"Angelica, could you please meet and greet Miss von Hammersmark and her guests. I'm not in the right state to do so."

"In French or in German?"

Emmanuelle shook her head. "Either. Whichever you deem best. Please, just make sure it goes fine. Look after them."

Then Emmanuelle darted away, in the direction of the projector room. Angelica was utterly startled, but she shook her head and put on her best presentation, and walked down the flight of stairs towards the woman in the glittering dress.

"Miss von Hammersmark?"

The actress turned to her, and Angelica could see why she would be recognised as a great beauty.

"Miss Mimieux?"

Angelica decided to go for German, especially seeing the soldiers around her. The previous patrons had always appreciated her speaking their language.

"I'm afraid Miss Mimieux has taken ill suddenly. My name is Angelique, and I'm at your disposal."

"Angelique? Lovely to meet you." Miss von Hammersmark took her hand and they shook lightly.

"Let me introduce my escort for the evening. Likewise, the officer who previous intended to accompany became indisposed at the last minute. So, instead, I bring with me Colonel Hans Landa."

Angelica turned, and met the startling gray eyes of Colonel Landa. She was immediately struck by how observant his gaze was, not piercing, but highly inquisitive, and very focused. It was an intelligent look, and that she was immediately drawn to.

She offered her hand. "Colonel Landa."

Colonel Landa took her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. That made her blink a little; hadn't Alex told her that people no longer did that?

"Utterly charmed, Angelique. You speak beautiful German."

"I'm flattered you think so, Colonel."

He waved his hand. "I mean it, truly."

*

Alex was busy selling ice creams when she realised that Emmanuelle was not in the lobby. In fact, it was Angelica talking to the actress and the short blond German officer who was accompanying her. Which, from where Alex stood, seemed to be going well. But where was Emmanuelle?

"Chocolate flavour please!" said the young Frenchman whose eyes wandered not far from her chest regularly. Alex switched back to him, offered some mild flirtation, and got rid of him as fast as possible. She sashayed her way over to Angelica, who was now leading the actress (Bridget somebody?) towards the staircase.

"Angelique," Alex whispered. "Where is--"

"Suddenly ill. I think she's in the projector room. I'm not sure what is going on. It was very abrupt, so I am here instead."

Alex frowned, but decided it was probably best to wait until the film was screening before she went to find her.

*

Shosanna sat quietly by Marcel in the booth. He had brought her water, and only asked her a few questions before he realised she was not going to speak. Oh God, how could she while that man was in the cinema?

She had to wait it out, that was all. As long as she stayed in the projector room, she would be safe. He had not seen her, of that she was sure. It would be completely fine.

*

Angelica found the Colonel to be quite charming. Well, mostly. There was something altogether predatory in his gaze, and it was odd but his attention had seemed to switch from Miss von Hammersmark to herself all rather rapidly. This bothered her. What if she gave herself away? At the same time, Emmanuelle, who was suspicious of everyone and extraordinarily careful about many things, had thought it was fine for her to be sitting here with him.

At one point during the film, Colonel Landa excused himself and left the box, leaving her and Miss von Hammersmark alone. The actress turned to her with a knowing expression.

"You are holding up very well to his attempts to seduce you."

Angelica laughed at that. "Is that what he is attempting?"

Miss von Hammersmark shook her head, an expression of exasperation on her face. "He has a reputation, and a well-earned one at that. He can be very persuasive."

Angelica was sure she could detect something else behind that. A history, a bemused regret. From Alex, Angelica had understood that sexual mores were very different in these days.

"Was he worth the persuasion?" she asked, trying to be as modern and with the times as possible.

Miss von Hammersmark turned, expression suddenly quite serious.

"Hans Landa is a very dangerous man, Angelique. That is all I will say on him."

That statement left Angelica both confused and a little afraid. This news was coming to her from a German, after all. If his own countrywoman felt that way, what did that say about him?

*

Alex knocked quietly on the projector room door, and Marcel answered.

"Emmanuelle?" she asked.

Marcel frowned, and opened the door to let her in. Alex entered carefully, not sure of how   
Emmanuelle would be when she saw her.

When she did see her practically curled up next to the projector, rocking just a little back and forth, Alex knew immediately that she wasn't ill in the physical sense. She was utterly terrified.

"What happened?"

The question was for Emmanuelle, but Marcel answered.

"I'm not entirely sure. She came in about ten minutes before the film started, and she hasn't left."

Marcel had troubled taking his eyes from Emmanuelle, and his normally relaxed posture was tense and hunched over. The shock of seeing someone usually so composed rendered almost helpless, Alex reasoned.

Alex came closer to Emmanuelle, and she slowly knelt down in front of her.

"What's wrong?"

Emmanuelle shook her head, and shot a warning look at Alex.

Alex turned slightly to speak to Marcel, but her eyes never left Emmanuelle. "Has she said anything since coming in?"

"Only to ask for water."

Alex nodded, and felt herself falling back into her psychology training. The seller of ice creams and flirtatious charms disappeared and her sense of what she had decided to do in life came back. She might not have paid attention in high school history, but she had honours in her psychology degree, and the will and desire to understand what motivated people.

"Emmanuelle, something has scared you. I can see that so clearly. I know it is bad it has happened on tonight of all nights, but please, if you tell us we can help."

"You know nothing, and you cannot help."

Behind Alex, Marcel sounded startled, and Alex herself was surprised by the violence of   
Emmanuelle's words.

"We know nothing because you have told us nothing. We are all worried, and we want to help you. You will feel so much better if you tell us what is--"

"Shut up!"

Emmanuelle was on her feet, furious eyes on Alex, her cheeks red. Alex slowly stood, and caught the full force of Emmanuelle's rage.

"You think you know everything! You think you can solve everything, that it is all a puzzle and a game. But it is not a game! It is my life, and it is real, and it is...it is..."

She shook her head, and ran from the projector room. Alex took a deep breath, trying not to be hurt by that. It was odd. Over the course of working with Gene, he had thrown far worse at her, and yet this had actually stung. As she turned back to Marcel, Alex wondered if it was that Gene's words were all sound and fury, signifying not very much besides Big Dog bravado, while Emmanuelle's indicated something far deeper and incredibly painful.

"I'm sorry. That didn't work very well."

Marcel shook his head. "No, you tried. Go to her, make sure she's ok. It is the last reel, and I need to--"

"Of course."

*

That stupid English bitch. What did she honestly think she could do? How the hell could she understand?

Shosanna felt her fury propel her down the corridor. She could go to her office now, work on something there. There was correspondence to settle, and an apparently outstanding bill she had already paid. Well, she thought, allowing herself a sardonic grin, they were certainly going to hear about that stupid error. She supposed she ought to be grateful to dear Alex for that; the sticky attempt at reaching out had sent Shosanna over the edge and made her forget her fear.

"Ah, Mademoiselle. Can you help me?"

Shosanna turned around in a huff, and put her hands on her hips to indicate she was busy.  
And on her hips they locked, and her whole body tightened, but she forced herself to smile. She had to smile now.

Colonel Hans Landa held up his hand apologetically. "Forgive me, you are busy. But you seemed to be walking with so much purpose that I assumed you worked here."

"I do. I own the cinema."

The words were so automatic, but Shosanna almost cried that she'd spoken them at all.  
Then Alex appeared at the end of the corridor, and Shoshanna suddenly felt that her earlier anger had been hypocritical because she expected that she had never felt so grateful to see anyone at that moment.

"Ah, you do." The Colonel looked impressed. "A young woman like yourself owns a fine establishment such as this? How wonderful."

Shosanna nodded at his compliment.

"Well, since you work here, then, you'll be able to assist me."

Alex approached her, concerned, clearly not having noticed Landa yet. Shosanna tried to indicate with her eyes that someone was present, but Alex was level with her before she noticed. Landa was still speaking, but Shosanna was trying to look at Alex, trying to keep herself calm and together and it was almost failing, and Alex looked so worried for her...

She muttered to Alex to help this man, that she would be in her office, and she walked away from them both, taking each step as if she were carrying crystal, while Landa simply asked Alex if she could show him the men's room.

She locked the door to her office, and she sat on the floor with her back against the door, hand to her mouth, catching her sobs and the tears in her palm.

*

Colonel Landa continued to shower her with attention, and by the end of the night, Angelica and Bridget (she had insisted on the first name as they chatted in the Colonel's absence) were sharing surreptitious glances and acknowledgements, and the occasional giggle.

The word had clearly spread through the cinema about Bridget's attendance, and Angelica was astonished to see the people in the lobby afterwards, eyes hungrily on the actress, hands wanting to reach out and touch her. For Angelica, it was an intriguing combination of the reverence that people had for royalty, and yet it was combined with the lascivious desires of the men who sought out prostitutes or took women without paying any heed to the woman's wishes. Bridget glided through the crowd, however, and kept her bearing upright and proud, but not haughty. She reached out and shook hands with people, allowed only a few men to kiss her gloved hand, signed her name for them (a strange practice that Angelica was still coming to terms with) before she waved them all goodbye with a kiss, and left the cinema with Colonel Landa at her arm. The Colonel gave Angelica one final wave himself, and she acknowledged it, though when he was gone, she was rather glad for it.

Alex's face was lined with worry.

"What has happened? Is Emmanuelle very sick? I have been so involved with keeping the guests occupied--"

"It wasn't sickness, it was something else."

Alex explained what had happened in the projector room

Around them, cinema patrons were still lingering. Alex took immediate charge, and though some men whistled at her, and made rather bold requests of her, she was able to clear everyone out quite quickly.

"Basic crowd control," Alex remarked when Angelica asked. "Something you learn the hard way."

They found Marcel at the office door. He was rapping on the door with his knuckles, and speaking in a gentle tone.

"Cherie, please. Please let me in."

"Marcel?"

He turned at Alex's voice, and sighed. "She is in there. She is not in our room or anywhere else that she normally goes."

"Emmanuelle, listen. I know something has frightened you very badly. I do not know what that is, but I think it has something to do with the man I saw you with earlier tonight. I want you to know that all of us out here care very much and want to help you with this. We all do."

The door opened, and Emmanuelle stood there. She'd clearly been sobbing, and Angelica made to go to her, to hold her close. The poor thing looked so small, so unusual for such a proud and fierce woman.

"Marcel..." her voice sounded small, faraway. "It was...it was..."

She began to cry. She clutched at the door, pressing her hand to it and her forehead to that, supporting her weight as she tried to get the words out. Marcel went to her, took her into his arms, his hands running down her hair.

"What was it? Please, my love, tell me."

"It was him. He has seen me. He was here, in my cinema."

"Him? Him who--"

The look of horror on Marcel's face, the dawning of comprehension, made Angelica very nervous. Marcel didn't scare, not easily.

Marcel nodded, and he kissed Emmanuelle's head.

"He has seen me. He might have recognised me. He will...he will..."

Marcel tried to hush her words, was telling her that it would be alright, that he, whoever this was, might not have recognised her.

"Four years is a long time."

Alex and Angelica looked at each other, both asking the same questions and getting no answers.

"You don't know that! If he knows who I am, then we are all done for. All of us! You, me, these two. We may as well be dead now!"

Alex was clearly trying to be patient, but she was also growing frustrated with the conversation.

"What is going on? Please, Emmanuelle, tell us. If all our lives might be in danger, we have to know. We really have to know."

Marcel's eyes were hard on Alex. Then he cast them to Angelica, who really wished someone would explain. Were they really in more danger than before? Marcel took both of the women in his gaze, and he eventually nodded. He turned his attention back to Emmanuelle.

"They are right, my love. If we are going to do anything, we all need to know."

Emmanuelle gripped Marcel tightly. All Angelica could see was the whitening of her knuckles as she found the strength to do something else besides cry. There were moments before she lifted herself from Marcel, swallowed a couple more sobs, and indicated that they all should follow her into the office.

*

The words came out of her mouth, words that she had never thought to say out loud for the rest of her life.

"I am not Emmanuelle Mimieux. My name is Shosanna Dreyfus, and I am a Jew."

### Part 4

The news spilled over Alex like chilled water. The secrecy, Marcel's protectiveness, Emmanuelle's distant – all of it now made perfect sense.

Emmanuelle, or now rather, Shosanna, said, "You understand why I did not tell you before."

Alex desperately wanted to convey her sympathy and "Oh yes, absolutely."

And then Alex glanced at Angelica, and immediately worried. Angelica was now staring at Shosanna, with a mix of confusion and surprise, and a horrified thought rushed to Alex; were they now going to have to deal with Angelica's possible archaic anti-Semitism as well as the clear and present danger of the Nazi hatred?

"You are a Jew?"

Shosanna raised her eyebrows at Angelica. "Yes, as I said."

"It's just...you do not look like one."

Alex felt the awful familiar sensation of when Gene said something that managed to hurt anyone who was not a white middle-aged man, coupled with the awareness that Angelica couldn't have possibly had any idea of what was happening. "Angelica..."

Shosanna's laugh was harsh, very sardonic. "No, and it has kept me quite safe, luckily."

"Safe? From what?"

Shosanna's mouth almost fell agape, and Alex tried to intervene before a full blown argument could break out.

"Angelica, if you bear with me, I can explain a lot of things that you do not understand."

To Shosanna she said, "I'll talk to her outside."

"Why not here?"

"Trust me, this way is best."

Shosanna threw her hands up. "Fine. You do as you see fit."

Angelica looked ready to protest and Marcel to try and intervene, but Alex shuffled her outside and up the staircase, far away from the door as possible.

"Ok. You do not know many Jewish people, do you?" Alex asked.

"I have seen them in London sometimes. Cromwell allowed them into England. But they look…very different to Emmanuelle. Or…Shosanna? Her real name?"

Alex hadn't known that about Cromwell, so she just said, "I see. And your view of them?"

Angelica looked puzzled for a moment, and then, after her comprehension dawned, a little wry. "I have been accused of all manner of acts in my life of which I was not guilty. And I am not so pure a Christian as you might believe, for I've believed in all manner of things in my life. It is perhaps true that they were the killers of Christ, but I find it highly unlike they drink the blood of babies or poison the wells. I know nothing of their customs, but believe me, I bear Shosanna no ill will because of her race. I'm just surprised – "

"Yes, I realised, but Jewish people can look very different from one another. Think about it; if your skin were a little darker you yourself might look 'Jewish' as you conceive it."

That took Angelica aback, and she began to protest, but Alex put on her best 'careful, your own logic just might fall apart now' look. Angelica folded her arms, and looked away, a little perturbed. Alex just waited, and eventually Angelica looked back and said, quietly:

"I forget sometimes that appearance says little about a person."

Alex let out a small breath of relief. They just might be able to work through

"You understand that Shosanna's people have been persecuted for a long time?"

Angelica nodded. "Yes, but I think that it is changing now. Well...in my time in England, a little bit."

"Yes. And in most countries it did get better, until this time. And then..."

Alex moved Angelica further up the stairs, as far from the door as possible, and she kept an eye on it to make sure, and damn being discovered, she explained the rest of it to Angelica in English.

"The Nazi government is not just about invading the rest of the Europe. They are also bent on persecution. And it is persecution of the worst kind."

*

The tale Alex told her was incredible. Angelica several times protested to her that it couldn't have been possible – how could so many people be moved so quickly, and all killed so fast? When Alex reminded her of the technology that existed now that Angelica wasn't aware of, that made it more plausible. That, and the image of people being rounded up en masse...that she could understand. And at the very least, the idea of death sentences for beliefs were never far from her mind.

"You may have trouble believing me, for the sheer magnitude of what they did, but I can assure, it is true."

"This is what happened to Emmanuelle, I mean, Shosanna's family?"

"That is what we have to find out."

*

 

Shosanna gripped Marcel's hand. He stood beside her chair, hand pressed to her shoulder. His presence helped her remain steady, allowed her to think of how best she was going to tell her story to the women who had been gone a long time and, blast them, were speaking in English again.

"Are you done?" she asked tersely when they came back in.

Angelica's expression was now more compassionate, which was decidedly better, but pity didn't suit Shosanna very much either. Alex, on the other hand, was clearly thinking rapidly, trying take control of the situation. Well, that wasn't going to happen if Shosanna could help it.

"I am sorry for what I said before," Angelica said, straightforward and genuinely.

Shosanna sighed, and nodded a thank you. It was better than she usually received, and she would have responded if Alex hadn't spoken.

"Angelica knows now the gravity of the situation."

Shosanna raised her eyebrows. "And you know better than me."

"Not in the same way. I can't imagine what you have gone through. But I do know what they are doing. To you, to the Roma people, to anyone who doesn't fit with their idea of the perfect human. The camps--"

"You know about the camps?" Marcel asked.

"Yes. And what they did, I mean, do, there is...unthinkable."

Shosanna swallowed, and decided that right now, she didn't need to know what happened there either. Instead, she told them her story, start to finish. Marcel didn't let go of her hand, and only coughed to stop Alex from interrupting her.

When she had finished, Angelica had begun to cry, and even Alex was holding back tears. Shosanna had done with her crying for the night, and she felt like asking the others to leave. How could they even conceive of what she had gone through?

Then Alex said quietly, "I lost both my parents when I was still a child."

Shosanna hadn't been expecting that response. Her face must have shown it, for Alex continued.

"It was a car explosion. I found out...many years later that my father had created it to kill himself and my mother."

Shosanna felt petty now, terribly petty.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Angelica, meanwhile, wiped away tears. "It seems we have much in common."

Shosanna's hand went to her mouth. "Your parents too?"

Angelica spoke slowly. "Well...my mother left me when I was young to join a convent in Europe, my first husband was executed by shooting in front of my eyes, my first child born dead while I was imprisoned, and...." she held up her throat, and exposed the scars that she never talked about. "I was almost hanged for a murder that was only self-defence."

"Angelica –"

Angelica shook her head at Alex. "I have learned to accept what I have been through. I have even forgiven my mother for abandoning me at a young age. But it is clear we all share the pain of life, and we would be unwise to try and fight each other now because of it."

The other women nodded. Then Marcel cleared his throat.

"And what about the Nazi?"

Alex shook herself. "Of course. That man I directed to the bathroom –"

"He was the one who had my family killed. Colonel Hans Landa."

Then suddenly, Angelica shrieked. "Oh my Lord!"

*

Later, they all sat in the kitchen, coffee mugs in their hands. Something for the three of them to calm themselves. Marcel had wanted to stay, but Shosanna asked if he could close up the cinema. Alex felt her mind turning, trying to think of the best solution to this situation, but coming up with nothing. As much as she had tried to get her head around being in this new time, this presented a far greater challenge than simply just surviving.

"Do you think he has realised you are English?" Shosanna eventually asked.

Angelica shook her head. "We spoke in German most of the time, and I think he believed my accent."

"I ask because he spoke in both French and English when he came to the farm," Shosanna said. "He is a clever man, and he has a reputation. They call him the Jew Hunter."

"He is…good at what he does, then?" Alex said.

Shosanna took a sharp sip of the coffee. "Very."

Alex sighed. "A formidable enemy then."

"But do you think he recognised you?"

Shosanna bit her lip. "I don't know. He looked pleased to see me, but I do not know what that means."

"He appreciates attractive women." Angelica voice was knowing. "I was warned by Bridget."

"First name terms now?" Shosanna asked

"We got along well. Colonel Landa is quite charming, but he is definitely a predator. Bridget and I…understood each other, shall we say."

Alex shuddered. "I feel like we should do something."

Marcel appeared at the kitchen door, looking very tired. "What precisely should we do, Miss Duck? We have no way of knowing what the Colonel knows, if anything at all."

Shosanna nodded. "Exactly. And I'll state the obvious; you are both enemies of Germany hiding in plain sight, as am I. Were we to do something, as you suggest, we'd be risking exposure."

"So we just wait until the Nazi's come bursting through the door?" Alex knew she sounded exasperated, but she didn't care.

Shosanna just looked at her, eyes hard. Angelica became very interested in the remanents of her coffee, and Marcel folded his arms, head shaking. Alex shoved her mug away from her and stormed off to her room.

It was only later that night that she realised that asking Shosanna and Marcel to do something about this was perhaps the most insulting thing she could have asked of them.

*

When the note came from Bridget von Hammersmark to Angelica, asking if she wanted to meet her for coffee, Shosanna was clearly unimpressed.

"If you can make it out the front door alone, knock yourself out."

That stung a little, but Angelica had to admit Shosanna had a point, and quietly folded up the letter and put it in her pocket, where it stayed for the entire day, Angelica placing her hand on it occasionally.

"Tell you what," Alex said before they went to bed that night. "I'll go with you. Make it a bit easier for you. If you think Bridget wouldn't mind."

Angelica thought that was a great idea, and Bridget was

The three of them met at a cafe Shosanna actually suggested. Near enough to the cinema

"Angelique told me about you. She thinks you are a very modern woman," Bridget said to Alex.

Alex winked at Angelica. "She flatters me. And she's spoken very well of you too."

The conversation proceeded very well, and Angelica felt much more relaxed about being out in public, and was enjoying herself.

Then Alex asked Bridge, "Have you seen much of Colonel Landa?"

Angelica jerked the cup of tea at her lips, coughing on it slightly.

Bridget snorted. "Angelique talked about him too?"

Alex nodded. "He seemed quite interesting, and I met him briefly in the corridor."

Bridget tapped her fingers on the table, eyes briefly looking around her, before she spoke again. "I'll make a confession. I have fallen for his charms before. There was something very appealing about his mind and his way with words. But he was…not gentle."

Alex swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Then I was right to be wary of him," Angelica said, hoping to end this conversation there. Angelica glanced at Alex, who looked suitably embarrassed. It was obvious to Angelica why Alex had asked the question; she was still plotting something, hoping they could make some kind of move.

"Indeed. Stay that way." Bridget lit a cigarette, and placed it in her holder, leaning back in her chair. "The problem with Landa is that you are never sure where he stands. I speak with other German officers, and they are so passionate about the party, the Fuhrer, our place in the world. With Landa though, I sense he stands for little but himself."

Alex looked around them. "Are you sure you should be speaking so in public?"

"I am not too worried. Who would believe that Bridget von Hammersmark would ever betray her glorious nation?"

Bridget winked at them, and chuckled at her own joke, but Angelica could see that Bridget was somehow in performance at that moment. It felt too clean, too perfect, with none of the turbulent edges that she'd detected in their conversation that night at the cinema.

Suddenly, Bridget's face flashed with a look of panic, but it quickly vanished and was replaced with one of gentle surprise.

"Ah, Miss von Hammersmark! So delightful to see you. And with Angelique too. And this young lady I recognise as well."

Angelica fixed a smile on her face before she turned around to see Colonel Landa standing behind her chair. Alex was likewise grinning pleasantly, and Angelica wondered how suspicious they must have looked to the Colonel, especially if he was a cunning as Shosanna and Bridget had said.

They all stood out of politeness, and Bridget was the first to speak. "Colonel Landa, let me introduce you to Alexandra. She's a colleague of Angelique's."

Colonel Landa took Alex's hand and kissed it, and Angelica could tell Alex's charmed smile was very put on.

"Lovely to put a name to a face."

"Likewise, Colonel. Angelique mentioned you to me."

"Did she now? Well, isn't that lovely. And I must say this is a great coincidence in seeing you here, Angelique. I was in fact coming to the cinema to make a request of you."

Angelica felt a creeping sense of dread. "Oh? And what do you wish to request of me?"

"Have dinner with me this Friday night. Three nights from now. I know an excellent restaurant and think you will like it very much."

For a request, it really sounded more like a command couched in the words to see like an invitation. To her side, she noticed Bridget's fist clench, and she could sense Alex tensing up behind her as well. Angelica knew she couldn't look at them, and betray her feeling of panic at having to make a quick decision now.

"That sounds lovely, Colonel – "

"Excellent. Shall I come collect you from the cinema?"

The pre-emptive response shouldn't have surprised her, but now Angelica felt all she could do was nod and say yes, that would be fine.

He kissed her hand in farewell, eyes locked on hers, looking for all like a hunter with his prey in sight. Only after he left did the three women sit back down, and let out a collective exhale. Bridget lit another cigarette.

"Oh dear, Angelique."

Angelica could only exhale, and be grateful for Bridget's sympathies.

And just wonder how Shosanna was going to take the news.

### Part 5

Papers scattered off the desk as Shosanna's hand came down with a hard slam. "Why the fuck did you ask about him?"

"It wasn't as if I went looking for him and brought him into the cafe!" Alex retorted.

Shosanna snarled, and instead she rounded on Angelica. "And why did you agree to this date!"

"Because I was afraid of what might happen if I said no," Angelica said, voice much steadier than Shosanna thought she had any right to be.

Still, Shosanna had to concede she had a point. She hit the desk again, but crossed her arms and said nothing else.

"He was on his way here, anyway," Alex said, breathing heavily. "At least this way he didn't make it back to the cinema."

"What is the worst that can happen?" Angelica asked. "It is me that he's interested in – he didn't even seem to be aware of you."

Shosanna again glared at Angelica. "You want to be the lover of a Nazi?"

"Of course not!"

"Shosanna..."

Marcel's voice broke through the heat in the room, and Shosanna felt herself calming with just his hand at her back and her name on his lips.

Alex began pacing the room, hands gesticulating. "We obviously now have to deal with this situation. Unlike before, this will bring him into our lives without question."

 _I'm sure that makes you very happy,_ Shosanna thought bitterly. It seemed Alex could read her thoughts, for she turned back to her, irritated.

"Shosanna, it's like you said. It is not just you who could be exposed. What if Landa realises Angelica is English, assumes like you first did she could be a spy?"

Marcel sighed. "If only you were both spies, we might have a chance of figuring out what to do."

"I have...worked with the police before," Alex said, revealing something about her that made Shosanna's eyes widen with almost amused surprised. This woman? The police?

Alex continued. "I've been involved in operations

"Trap him? How? Invite him to the cinema and throw a net over his head?"

Alex rolled her eyes, but didn't have a come back. "There must be something we could use."

"Wait."

Everyone's eyes shifted to Angelica. She looked a little unsure, but her mind was clearly reaching for something that she thought was important as she spoke.

"Bridget said something before Landa came to the cafe. About Landa. She told us that she felt she couldn't trust him, not just because of his reputation with women, but because he seemed far more interested in his own advancement than the Nazi party."

Shosanna chuckled sardonically. "I'm sure the Nazi high command would be very interested where that the actual case. Really, I suspect many of them are like that."

"Perhaps, but Bridget was quite sure Colonel Landa was different."

Marcel's expression was puzzled. "But how can we use that? He wants advancement in the Nazi Party. We can't exactly offer him _that_."

Shosanna eyes met Angelica's. She could tell that Angelica trying to put something together

She pressed her finger tips together, bring them to her nose. She chewed on her thumb, and she ticked over the possibilities that could lead to.

"He believes you are French. But how would he react if he learned that you were English?"

"Apart from having her arrested?" Alex asked, tone incredulous.

"But not just any English woman, but in fact an agent of the government."

Angelica could sense the plot forming in Shosanna's mind. "You mean...I'll be pretending to be an English spy pretending to be a French woman?"

"Exactly. And when you tell him that you are here on behalf of England, willing to offer him advancement far beyond anything that the Nazi Party could offer – "

"Then he just might be tempted to defect," Angelica finished for her, and Shosanna felt herself, for the first time since seeing Landa again, feel a little more of the control she so craved come back to her.

Alex frowned. "But what good would it do us to get him to admit he would defect to Britain? It's not like we can secretly record a conversation or capture them on film. Oh. Wait."

Shosanna looked at directly, and she hoped Alex recalled that very awkward moment in the smaller lounge room. "But we can."

It took a moment or so, but Alex did pick up Shosanna's meaning, and she rolled her eyes in a slightly embarrassed way. Angelica looked a little confused, but Shosanna simply told her that they did in fact have a camera in their possession.

Behind Shosanna, Marcel chuckled. And soon, all four of them were grinning in agreement to this embryo of a plan.

*

 

Alex didn't want to admit it to herself, but she felt a little bit excited by the whole prospect of their plan. The four sat in the kitchen after dinner each night before the Friday Angelica was to meet him, hashing out a) just what Angelica would do to get him back to the cinema, b) what she would day in order to convince him, and c) how they were going to conceal the camera.

It was the first aspect that was a bit of a sticking point.

"How will we get him here in the first place without suspecting anything?" Alex asked.

"Well, that's obvious. I offer him something else initially, he will come under the impression of getting that instead of what I actually will offer him."

Alex was confused. "But what would you."

Then it hit her. "Oh."

Shosanna visibly shuddered, while Alex bit her lip. Angelica held out her hands, as if to draw them in to convince them.

"It is me he wants. That is so very clear from when I speak to him. You saw it for yourself, Alex."

Shosanna's face was hard. "What if he decides to take it? Or, what if he wants some guarantee before? A, um..." she tried to gulp down the word. "Appetiser. Forgive me, it's a horrible word, but –"

"I'll do what I have to do." Angelica took Shosanna's hand, eyes on her, as determined as Shosanna's.

Shosanna shook her head. "I cannot ask that of you."

Alex swallowed, not enjoying the implications of what they were doing. "Apart from actually killing him, for which we will be caught much faster, let me assure you, what else can we do?"

Angelica and Alex waited for Shosanna. Alex knew that it was really up to Shosanna, but at the same time, she felt for their own fate. If Shosanna was caught as Jew hiding in plain sight, what would happen to a couple of English women? Well, if they were lucky, it would only be a POW camp. But if it was considered aiding and abetting, then their fate would be far worse.

Alex had been about 7 years old when she first heard of the Holocaust. Her mother had told her it was one of events in the world that drove her to do what she did, to fight for equality. Alex had seen some pictures, but at that moment, memories of seeing _Schindler's List_ at the cinema with her boyfriend at the time, him not shy of holding his tears back and Alex trying not to choke. Shosanna felt the terror, the very real terror of being captured, but she hated to think how either her or Angelica would feel if they could see the pictures of the death and the burning.

Shosanna was looking away from them, towards the door of the kitchen. Her mind must have been weighing up the costs of what they were doing, the risks for Angelica over her clear desire for revenge. And this would be revenge. If Landa would accept a proposition to betray Germany and be welcomed into England, then they would have the proof to get him arrested.

At last, she nodded. "Alright. Let's do this. We go with the plan."

Alex exhaled her tension, and she nodded, grateful. And she was more than surprised when Shosanna reached out and took her hand. Clasping both hers and Angelica's, she squeezed them in solidarity, and she smiled at both of them. It was a very rare smile, and it was beautiful.

*

TBC


End file.
